


Unrepentant

by jessie_cristo



Series: Fic Challenges [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Brother/Brother Incest, Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence, Sam Winchester Angst, Sibling Incest, Soulless Sam Winchester, Supernatural Reverse Bang 2017, Top Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-15 16:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12324675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessie_cristo/pseuds/jessie_cristo
Summary: Dean struggles to keep his soulless brother in check while also sticking to his morals, even if a part of him wishes otherwise. Will he be able to find a solution that they BOTH can live with?





	Unrepentant

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to my advisers/betas: cincitymojo, jessies_girl and J2_Girlz  
> Without you gals inspiring me, pushing me and being altogether delightful pains in my tushie, I never would've finished this in time. I can only hope that you all know how cherished you are.
> 
> Additional thanks to Milly_gal for the wonderful art and the initial inspiration that was the catalyst for this story. It's truly been a pleasure and an honor working with you. Readers, please be sure to let Milly know how amazing her art is, as well. Here's a link to her art on LJ, please take a moment to check it out and send her some love, as well. [Milly's LJ Account](https://milly-gal.livejournal.com/1878326.html)
> 
> This is the original piece that prompted the story that came to be. Please use the link at the bottom of the page to go and thank Milly for inspiring me if you like the fic. :)  
> 
> 
> Thank you also the SPN ReverseBang mods for all the hard work you put into holding this exciting challenge for us every year. And especially thanks for your patience for my noob ass. LOL

_**SAM** _

Sam was vaguely pleased to note how quick he was to leap out of bed, gun in hand, when the door to the bedroom of his hotel suite was kicked open. Hungover or not, he was still fast.

He dropped his arm and rolled his eyes the moment the man he’d been evading for over a week snapped at him. “Geezus christ, Sam! Quit pointing that monster at me and get some clothes on!”

Frowning, Sam glanced down at the standard Glock in his hand, then realized that he was stark naked with his morning wood standing straight out from his body.

Looking back up at his brother, he smirked. “Very funny. How did you find me?”

“You may be tricky, little brother. But I taught you every trick you know.”

“Dean?” mumbled the brunette just now poking her head out from under the bundle of sheets on the king-size bed, both men turning to look at her.

“Dean?” his brother asked, turning back to Sam, brow quirked.

“It was funny when I brought her back here last night.”

Just then, a red head popped out from under the sheets, looking just as sleep muzzled as the brunette. “Wha’s goin’ on?” she asked.

“And her.” Sam added.

Dean rolled his eyes this time and stalked over to the armoire that served as the room’s mini-bar. Bending over to open the mini-fridge, he began rummaging through it, pulling out sandwiches, bottled water and sodas.

The redhead cocked her head to the side as she openly ogled his brother’s rear end. “Nice.” She mumbled. “Can he play with us too, Dean?”

Sam looked over at his brother, his head cocking as well, as he assessed Dean’s ass. – It was VERY nice – S(old)oul'd Sam - as he liked to think of his former self - had always admired Dean's attributes but usually repressed any thoughts that weren't brotherly. Now, he had no hang-ups and could look his fill.

The brunette turned to look and hummed appreciatively when Dean stood up and turned around. “Mmm… even better from the front.” She murmured.

“Why are you just standing there, Sa-?” Dean froze as he took in all three of them staring at him like he was the last chocolate bar in the world; his pulse jumped as he noted the dark, hungry look in Sam’s eyes. “What are you all mumbling over there?”

The redhead rose from the bed with one graceful move, her slim body and pert breasts on full display. Dean took a second to admire the view before what she was now saying to him registered in his brain. “Wha-what?” he asked.

“I said, would you like to play with us? ALL of us?”

Dean stuttered, his eyes widening as he stared at Sam’s cock – it had begun to flag when Dean had headed for the minibar, but was hardening again, the tip turning a rosy red even as Dean watched.

“No.” Sam suddenly spoke up. Turning to pull the brunette out of bed, ignoring her squawks of indignation. He dragged her around the bed and grabbed the redhead with his other hand. Dragging them to the door, he shoved them out of the bedroom. “Your stuff and your pay is still in the living room. Get it and get out. He’s mine.”

Both women’s curses and screeches were cut off when Sam slammed the broken door closed and turned to face Dean who was still standing frozen, his wide, green eyes fixed on Sam.

“Sam.” He said, tone rife with caution. “What the hell’s going on? What do you mean I’m yours? And why the hell did you just take off?! You know you’re not yourself. You can’t go off alone, man! AND PUT ON SOME DAMN CLOTHES!”

“I had a lot of making up to do.” Sam replied, voice deep, throaty as he pushed away from the door and walked towards Dean, muscles rippling and flexing up and down his long, golden tanned body. “Or should I say, ‘making out’?” he laughed, softly.

Sam smirked lazily as he noted the darkening of his brother’s gaze, the hitched breath he dragged in as his eyes dragged up and down Sam’s body. Sam knew this look very well. His brother, whether he admitted it or not, was turned on. Turned on by him. 

He’d seen that look countless times in many a bar, roadhouse or club. Places they’d visit so that Dean could hook up with the first no-strings-attached lay that appealed to him. Only this time, Sam was the one bringing on that look, and the small suspicion he’d had since he was sixteen was confirmed.

Sam ran one hand along the middle of his body, starting at his chest then working his way down, stopping right above the dark thatch of wiry hair that framed his large, achingly hard cock. “What’s wrong, Dean? Don’t I have a nice body? I know you like looking at me, Dean.”

“Wh-what!? No I don’t!”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“NO! Cut it out, Sam! Get dressed, pack your shit and let’s go!” Dean moved to step around Sam, and gasped in shock when Sam grabbed him by one wrist, causing him to drop all the stuff he’d raided from the mini-fridge.

A can of soda popped, splashing their legs with its contents. Sam shivered as goosebumps ran up his chest and arms at the feel of the cold liquid hitting his bare legs. It did nothing to stem his arousal, though.

Shifting his grip, so that he was holding the back of Dean’s hand with a hard grip, he brought Dean’s palm to his aching cock, wrapping the strong, blunt fingers around its thick girth. “I need you, Dean. You gonna leave me like this? You promised you’d always take care of me.”

Dean stared at his hand, eyes widening more as his fingers curled around Sam’s cock of their own volition. Dean gasped as his fingers tightened around the hard, hot length of his little brother, a choking sound escaping the plushness of his parted, gasping mouth. Sam’s heated gaze locked on Dean’s mouth. He wanted them on him. Stretched obscenely around the dark red, veined shaft as he fucked himself deep into his brother’s throat. Sam moaned at the very thought, his cock hardening even more as Dean continued to stare dazedly at his own hand as it began to work Sam’s cock slowly.

When Sam reached to guide Dean’s head down toward his crotch, the older man suddenly stiffened in his grasp and snatched his hand back even as he broke free of Sam’s hold.

Sam never saw Dean’s other hand form into a fist and swing around in a fast, vicious punch. He felt it though, as it slammed into the point of his chin, snapping his head back and sending him flying back onto the bed.

He chuckled, as he shook his head and propped himself up on his elbows, legs spread obscenely, cock still hard with precome oozing from the tip.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, SAM?! I’M YOUR GODDAMN BROTHER!”

“So what? We’re two consenting adults with healthy sex drives. S’not like I can knock you up. You want me, Dean… and I want to fuck you into this mattress ‘til you’re screaming for me to stop, and then I’d fuck you some more.”

Dean shuddered as he pulled in a shaky breath, then turned and yanked open the broken door. The brunette and the redhead fell into the room, obviously having been leaning up against the door in order to eavesdrop.

“So let me get this straight…” said the redhead. “YOU’RE Dean…” points at Dean, then turns to point at Sam who hadn’t bothered to get up off the bed and was still sprawled back on his elbows, feet planted on the floor, knees spread wide. “And you’re Sam. Did I get that right?”

“Yup.” Sam answered, popping the ‘p’ sound, a smirk twisting his soft-looking pink lips. His chin, where Dean had popped him, already starting to stiffen and ache. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if it was all bruised and swelling already. His suddenly tempting brother knew how to throw a punch and even if it never had before, Sam was finding that fact quite hot.

“And you’re brothers? Like real brothers, not steps?” the redhead continued.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded with a black scowl on his face, looking as if he was considering just jumping over the women.

Instead, he reached down for the smaller woman, the brunette, and dragged her to her feet.

“Mmmm… so strong.” She cooed at him.

Dean set her to the side, then walked out, calling back to Sam. “You’ve got 20 minutes, Sam. You’re not outside and in the car in that time I’m coming back up here to shoot you in the leg and drag you out of here.”

Sam scoffed at that statement, then realized the thought of Dean shooting him was turning him on again, he turned his hooded gaze on the two women and quirked a brow at them. “You heard him. I need 10 minutes to shower, so you two got 10 minutes and an extra 50 bucks if you can take care of this for me before I have to leave.

The women looked at each other with identical smirks then turned as one and jumped onto the bed with squeals of laughter.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

For the next few weeks, Dean only took them on standard hauntings, salt and burns that were boring the hell out of Sam. Sam was pretty sure that Dean only took them because they were easier for him to work while also keeping an eye on Sam. That grew old real fast.

The so-called grieving widow of their third case was more than willing to show her appreciation for their help, but one look from Dean and Sam knew this new moral, uptight version of his brother would throw a bitch fit, and who needed that? That night, he’d masturbated in his bed, being as loud about at it as he wanted, and had come satisfactorily when Dean had jumped off his bed and run out of the room, mumbling about needing some air.

Sam didn’t really mind Dean putting a damper on his minimal efforts to flirt with and get into the pants of some of the people they were supposed to be helping, because Sam had a more tempting challenge sitting in the driver’s seat beside him and Sam’s focus was on him.

Sam wanted a taste of his brother, and besides, watching Dean squirm when he made advances was priceless. So he’d set into action an all-out campaign to get Dean in his bed.

First step had been showing Dean exactly what he could have on a daily basis by walking around their motel rooms barely dressed or even flat out naked whenever he could. Ignoring Dean’s growls and orders to get dressed. Challenging him to do something about it every time and watching Dean back down, highly agitated and confused, was amusing.

The one time Dean had tried to sneak out to a nearby bar to hook up with a random whore, Sam had only to walk in, grab Dean by his undeniably blue balled crotch and tell the bitch to back off, for her to scramble hastily away on her cheap hooker heels.

Dean had punched him that time too, but Sam was finding his temper tantrums more and more arousing and had only laughed as he followed his brother out of the bar and back to their room.

Then there had been all the touches and gropes Sam could sneak in at every opportunity. The way that Dean jumped or squeaked every single time were addicting to Sam.

Dean had even tried to get them separate rooms for two nights, but Sam’s lock-picking skills had always been better than Dean’s and there wasn’t a door in creation Sam couldn’t find his way through. After waking up both times with Sam in his room sleeping in the bed next to his, Dean had given up on the two-rooms-plan.

Another fun time for Sam was when he and Dean were questioning some college kids about this one case they were on, Sam had noticed a beefcake of a guy eyeing Dean appreciatively, flirting mildly and sidling in closer to Dean. The guy was actually bigger than Sam in all ways, with the physique of a defensive blocker, even. Dean, himself, had noticed too, of course, and had mildly flirted back.

So what if the small group of students ran off screaming when Sam pulled his gun and pressed it to the big lunk’s head while warning him to back off, it got the guy to nearly wet his pants and run off scared, as well. Mission fucking accomplished.

When Dean had dragged Sam back to their car and began yelling at him as they stood next to it. Sam had simply dragged him in for a hard, thorough kiss; running his large hands over every inch of Dean that he could reach. Paying special attention to Dean’s ass, holding both firm, muscled cheeks in his hands and squeezing and massaging them firmly, even as Dean writhed in his arms. Sam then released him and got into the passenger seat of the Impala after warning Dean he’d do it again if he ever flirted with anyone else.

Dean had stood there at the front of the car, a look mixed with shock and desire on his gorgeous face. He’d then got into the driver’s seat with a furious look on his face. Just as he started up the car, revving the engine loudly, he’d turned to look at Sam with a murderous glare. “You ever do that again and I’ll shoot you.” He’d said.

Sam had merely smiled as he took in the high flush still on Dean’s cheeks, the swollen lips and the telltale bulge in his lap. “Then you’re gonna have to shoot me, Dean. ‘Cos I’ll do it again and again every time you try to get with anyone else but me. Until I’ve had you for myself, you’re mine.”

Dean had only gaped at him, then drove the car out of the lot, tires squealing.

Until Sam got his turn at exploring every inch of Dean’s body and fucking it to a fare thee well, no one else was allowed to lay hands on what Sam had claimed as his.

Their last hunt together had turned out to be anything but a simple ghost hunt. The ‘hauntings’ that had been plaguing the small town were actually due to the hexes and spells cast by a local dabbler in witchcraft. The 40-something year old bitter divorcee had actually advanced enough to put her ex-husband and a handful of townspeople in her thrall, and when Sam and Dean had to fight through a gauntlet of mindless sycophants to get to her and take her out, Sam had found himself getting aroused just by watching Dean in action, taking on and dispatching one crazy after another.

Sam was fighting by his side, the both of them with the hex protection amulets Bobby had taught them how to make, dangling from their necks. But Sam was enjoying watching Dean so much he took out his opponents with a less gentle, yet effective method; breaking arms and legs with an almost casual, dispassionate ease.

After taking out the witch and making sure she had no acolytes to carry on her work, they’d skipped town and found a motel two towns over to crash in. That night, Sam had stealthily stolen the large hunting knife Dean kept under his pillow and tossed it onto his own bed.

He’d then quickly, not giving Dean much of a chance to wake up and fight back, stripped the sheets off of him with one quick move then dropped naked onto Dean’s back. Using his larger body to hold Dean down even as he trapped his hands above his head.

Dean bucked and writhed frantically under him, shouting and cussing. Dean was too strong for Sam to hold both of his wrists in one hand so he’d had to improvise and shifted his hips around until he could get his heavy, aching erection into the crease of Dean’s firm ass, lining himself up with the crease, easily discerned through the thinning material of Dean's boxer briefs - pressing down hard with his hips. He’d then rut into Dean, his leaking cock wetting the cheap material of the briefs, the dampness helping the glide as Sam rode his ass with hard, almost brutal thrusts.

“Sam, STOP! Get the hell off me!” Dean had nearly begged, his words seeming to be punched out of him with every thrust of Sam's hips. He then moaned loudly as Sam pressed down harder. His rhythm changing, hips thrusting like pistons; pushing back and forth, almost frantically.

“You were so hot today, Dean. I love watching you fight. So strong, so graceful and sure. I need this. Can’t fucking take it anymore.” Sam had gritted out, a fine film of sweat building up on his body and beginning to trickle down the sides of his face, the dip of his spine, the long stretch of his straining neck. “Don’t worry, just this. I won’t fuck you ‘til you ask me to. I just need this for now.”

The pressure and precome from Sam’s engorged cock had pushed the material of Dean’s briefs deep within the crack of his ass by then, and Sam was reveling in the combined heat from both their bodies. They groaned at the same time when the large, sensitive tip of Sam’s cock caught against Dean’s hole through the material, then slid over it.

Sam grinned like a shark when he noted how Dean was no longer trying to pull his hands free and was even pushing back into Sam, canting his hips so that Sam could slip even more of his cock between his cheeks. Moaning every time Sam ground his hips down into him, forcing his own aching erection to slide against the bed beneath him.

Sam released Dean’s hands and reached down to strip his brother’s shirt off, ripping it at the hem a bit when he used brute force to get it up and over Dean’s head, tossing it behind him before he finally was able to lay his large hands on Dean’s sweaty, flushed skin.

Dean braced his hands against the bed, arching his back into a long, beautiful curve; muscles bunching and rippling as he pushed back into Sam, grunts and moans now spilling from his plush lips as he turned his head as much as he could to look back at Sam.

“Come on.” He groaned, voice sounding wrecked.

The next time his cockhead caught against the fluttering rim of Dean’s hole, Sam held it there with the thumb of one hand and pressed in with firm pressure. His groan joined Dean’s as the muscle trembled then parted for him. The material of Dean’s soaked briefs kept Sam from pushing in any further, but when his fingers of his other hand dug harshly into the hollows of Dean’s hip and Sam began a shallow fucking motion, Dean cried out as if it had been dragged out of him, his voice an octave lower than usual.

Dean’s hips bucked uncontrollably under him and Sam swore he could feel Dean’s hole fluttering and flexing against his cockhead. When Sam realized that Dean was coming, it hit him like a Mack truck and he roared in exultation when his orgasm swept up from the tips of his toes, pooling in his gut then shooting up to his head; making his vision white out for a split second as the best orgasm he could ever remember having, roared through his body.

As Sam’s load began to spurt out of him in long, ropy strands, Sam reared back to yank Dean’s briefs below his ass. He stared with a hungry fascination as he painted the taut, pale skin of Dean’s ass and lower back with his come.

Dean, meanwhile, had gone rigid again below him, deep grunts as another orgasm hit him. Sam spread Dean’s cheeks to watch as his brother’s pretty pink hole clenched and fluttered. Grabbing the base of his cock, Sam aimed the last few spurts of his own orgasm at it; moaning in appreciation as he hit Dean’s hole square on. Using the sensitive tip of his cock, Sam smeared his come over and around Dean’s hole, fascinated with how it flexed and gaped ever so slightly, as if it were a tiny mouth trying to get at his seed.

Finally, the thrumming energy that had been running through Sam since that morning at the hotel, discovering he wanted to fuck Dean, and all that pent up lust he’d held back for weeks dropped down to a more manageable simmer inside of him.

As Sam slumped forward, his hands shot out to hold himself above Dean. He lazily rubbed his softening erection against Dean’s ass. His brother a loose-limbed, gasping mess beneath him.

Sam thought that once he was able to get off with his brother that the need for him would lessen. The strong urge was less, yes, but it was still there, crackling at a low level deep within him. Maybe he needed to fuck Dean properly, but Sam was serious about wanting Dean to beg for it, first.

Grunting to himself, Sam shifted and settled onto the bed beside Dean. When Dean made to leave the bed, Sam wrapped one strong arm around his waist and held him in place.

“Sleep, Dean. We can clean up in the morning, and I’ll wanna do that to you again. Seems I’m not quite done with you.”

Sam didn’t think Dean realized it, but Sam heard the soft whimper that escaped his brother at Sam’s words, and Sam smiled amusedly even as his eyes drooped and finally closed.

\---------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Sam wasn’t surprised to find Dean, his belongings and the car gone. He always was the stealthier of the two of them. On the kitchenette’s small table he found a note from his missing brother.

_\--Sam,  
What happened last night can’t ever happen again. You know I’m right. It’s not all your fault, tho. My soul is still intact, I should’ve fought harder to stop you. But you were right. I’ve wanted you for too long._

_Maybe I was just tired of fighting it after all these years. No matter what I was thinking last night, fact is, it’s still wrong._

_I thought staying close by you while you were without a soul would be the best way to protect you, but now I see I was wrong. Now I know that staying as far away from you as I can is the best way to help._

_Don’t follow me, Sam. Bobby will call you if he finds a way to get your soul back._

_Or Cas will find you._

_Until that happens, just stay the hell away from me._

_Dean--_

Sam crumpled up the note and was about to lob it at the wastebasket near the main door of the room. Changing his mind, he shoved it in a pocket of his jeans and turned to pack up his belongings. He noted that Dean had left him one of the credit cards and a handful of cash on the bedside table.

Grabbing those up as well, Sam dropped the room’s key on the kitchen table and walked out.

He had a lot of work to do before he went after his brother. He told Dean that he belonged to him until Sam was done with him. Sam was far from done and nobody took what belonged to him. Not even his big brother.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

A week later Sam pulled a stolen Camaro into Singer’s Salvage and parked right outside the garage. He noted the Impala sitting inside the garage and the man walking around it to come to a stop at the trunk, leaning up against it as he stared at Sam through the windshield.

Throwing the Camaro into park, Sam turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. Slamming the door shut, Sam walked up to Dean, and stopped 10 feet from him, a confident smile twisting his lips as he ran his gaze up and down Dean’s body.

Dean did the same, one brow cocking as he took in Sam’s shiny black leather shoes, charcoal gray slacks and dark red silk button-down shirt with the sleeves’ cuffs unbuttoned and hanging loose at his wrists.

“Hey, baby. Miss me?” Sam crooned, lips curving at the corners as Dean stiffened at the use of the endearment.

Stiffening his jaw in resolve, Dean sneered at him. “Nice clothes, Sam. Who’re you supposed to be? Corporate Ken?”

Sam laughed, delighted by Dean’s show of bravado.

Just then, the sound of a door opening reached Sam and he looked to the side as Bobby came out of his house and walked over to stand beside Dean.

“Sam.” He said, cautiously. “Good to see ya, boy.”

“Hey, Bobby. How’s tricks?”

“What are you doing here, Sam?” Dean butt in, a full scowl now on his gorgeous face.

“What do you think I’m doing here? I came to get back what’s mine.”

“I told you not to follow me.”

“Even when I had a soul, I had problems following instructions. Did you really think I’d start now? I told you. You’re mine until I’m done with you, and what we did that night was just the beginning, sweetheart.”

Sam chuckled when he noticed Bobby’s expression melt from concern into unease and then dismay. Dean, on the other hand, had gone red, his lovely green eyes snapping with pent up rage.

“Oh… he didn’t know!” Sam chortled. “Poor Bobby. Learning that the boys he raised as sons are screwing each other.”

Bobby now looked like he was going to be sick. “What in the HELL?!” he finally got out.

“We did NOT screw each other, I swear it, Bobby!” Dean shouted, taking a step towards Sam then turning to stare at Bobby with desperate eyes.

“Well, yeah, there was no actual penetration. I did say I wouldn’t fuck you until you asked for it.” Sam said, nonchalantly, as he turned and paced lazily in front of the two men who once meant so much more to him. “But the way you were pushing back at me as I rubbed off against your ass is still considered sex, baby… and oh, the way you came!”

Sam paused his pacing, turning to look at Bobby with a manic grin on his face. “You should’ve seen him, Bobby! He was fuckin’ beautiful!”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Dean roared, trying to rush Sam, only Bobby was fast enough to grab him in time, holding him back.

“Stop, Dean, no! He’s not himself, that’s not Sam!”

“Oh, it’s me, alright. I’ve come to realize that I’ve always wanted you, Dean. But the old me buried it so deep inside… my oh-so-good soul and nuisance of a morality kept it hidden well. But no more. This soulless thing freed me, Dean. You don’t know how good it feels. To finally acknowledge and accept all the things I’ve wanted but could never even fantasize about when I had a soul.”

Sam settled into a challenging stance. Legs braced a shoulder-width apart, arms held loose and ready at his side, head lowered and eyes locked on Dean with a challenging stare. He grinned at his brother, totally ignoring Bobby. “Even if you two find a way to get my soul back, I won’t take it back. It’s my right to choose, and I choose to stay as I am.”

“Sam, please! You don’t mean that.” Dean now begged, his face crumpled in despair. “If you just took it back for one second, you’d see that. This is not the real you.”

“If I just took it back? What do you mean--- ah, you have it already. So, you knew I was coming and were just waiting. To what? To trap me? How did you get it back? S’not like either of you took a trip to Hell and back in only a week’s time.”

Dean and Bobby looked at each other with frowns of guilt and consternation.

“It must’ve been Cas.” Sam smirked, knowingly. “Where is that trenchcoated nuisance, anyways?”

“Right here.” Said a deep, gravelly voice behind him.

Sam whipped about, angel blade dropping out of his sleeve and into his hand, whipping around to stab the angel.

“Sam, NO!” he heard Dean shout.

But he needn’t have bothered. Cas caught Sam’s wrist when the blade was an inch from his temple, stopping it cold, even as his other hand shot up to press two fingers to the middle of Sam’s forehead. Sam’s mind whirled, and he felt his eyes roll up even as a crushing blackness overtook him.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

_**DEAN** _

 

_Two Months Later…_

“Are you sure about this, Dean?”

“He’s not getting better, Cas. In fact, he seems to be getting worse. Just the other day I came back from getting us dinner and he was sitting on his bed with his gun in his hand, just staring at it with this goddamned longing look on his face.” Dean said, anguish rife in his tone. “I’m losing him, Cas.”

Cas frowned, unhappy but resigned to doing what Dean asked of him.

“His soul won’t let him forgive himself for what he’d done when soulless. He keeps looking at me with these wrecked, puppy dog eyes, and he can’t function on his own anymore. I have to goad him into cleaning himself, to eat and drink. It’s like he’s given up!”

Dean got up from the park bench he’d called Cas to, so that they could talk without Sam hearing. He paced back and forth in front of Cas, who was seated at the other end of the bench.

“I’ve got him cuffed to the bed right now, just so that I could leave him while I came here to talk to you! But I need to get back quick, knowing him he’s figured out a way to get out of them and is working on it right now. So did you bring it?”

Scowling in disapproval, Cas sighed then reached into his coat and pulled out an ornate, silver box that looked a lot like a jewelry box. But judging by the power Dean could feel emanating from it, and learning from Cas what it was for, Dean knew the box usually held things much more valuable than jewels.

“That’s it? That little thing is how you got Sam’s soul out of Hell?”

“It would be too hard to pronounce in Enochian but in human language its called _Psyche kouti tou_ , which roughly translated to English, means _Psyche’s Box_. It attracts loose souls, rejected souls and souls willed into it and keeps them safe for all eternity. Once inside, it cannot be forced out and the soul will not come out on its own unless it’s owner is around. Then it will zip right back into the body it belongs to.”

“What happens to the souls that are inside it?”

“Psyche knows the value of souls and finds them beautiful. She created the box to help lost and suffering souls. In the box, the souls manifest into their human shapes and a world is created around them, giving them a happy and fulfilling life.”

“Like a sort of nirvana?”

“Nirvana, Elysian Fields, Valhalla… whatever suits each soul best. The point is, they are taken care of.”

Dean’s troubled expression eased a bit as he considered the angel’s words. “So if Sam wills his soul into the box he’ll go back to the soulless S.O.B. he was before?”

“Not sure exactly how he’ll be after, but soulless, no.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean? He was one cold bastard, he sure seemed soulless!”

“He was less inhibited but he was never truly soulless.”

“Cas, he… he… he nearly raped me!”

“No, I doubt he would’ve gone that far.”

“How can you be so sure?!”

“Dean, he was never truly soulless. Missing a big part of his soul, yes, but not soulless.”

Dean gaped at the angel, flummoxed.

Inhaling deeply as if summoning patience, Castiel explained. “The only beings that are truly soulless in this plane of existence are angels, demons and the dead, Dean. But angels and demons are not empty. Angels have their grace, demons have the evil essence used to create them.”

Dean nodded, motioning with one hand for Cas to continue.

“When Sam’s soul was ripped out of him by the cage’s power, a fraction of it stayed inside Sam to keep him alive. Back in the real world, that fraction of soul slowly healed itself. Would it have grown to replace all that he’d lost? No one really knows.”

“So it’s like a whole new soul?”

“Yes, sort of. It still had the base of the soul God originally created. Why do you think he never tried to kill or seriously hurt you when you kept him from pursuing his wants and desires? Why do you think he even had any wants or desires? The truly soulless never want or desire anything. They are dead inside. The biggest factor is that his original soul was bonded to yours by God, himself. That’s why he kept tabs on you that year with Samuel. Plus, except for that one week he slipped away from you, he mostly stayed with you and then fixated on you, sexually, there at the end. You were and still are, soulmates.”

\-----------------------------------  
_One Week Later…_

_**CASTIEL** _

The angel, in his usual attire watched as the beat-up, rusted truck pulled into the lot and parked in a spot nearby. He shot the grizzled old man that climbed out of the driver’s side an awkward smile as the man slammed the door shut and joined Castiel standing at the door of room 9 of the nondescript fleabag motel.

“What’s going on? Where are they?’

Cas gestured at the door. “They’re in there, but they’ve got angel warding on it and they’re not answering their phones, even if I can hear them ringing inside.”

Without hesitation, Bobby stepped up to the door, and tried the knob. The door opened onto an empty, bland standard room with two double beds, a cheap television and a small table and chair. Bobby rushed in calling for Sam and Dean; receiving no reply. He ducked into the small bathroom but was back out again, yelling at Cas who was standing right outside the doorway of the room.

“You said they were here! This room is empty!”

“They are, I can sense them. Break the warding, let me in.”

Glancing around at the sigils on the walls and windows, Bobby spotted the large, permanent marker sitting on top of the television. Snatching it up, he X’d out two of the sigils and then stopped when Cas stepped into the room.

The angel stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly in place, coming to a stop facing the bedside table that stood between the two beds.

Going over, he picked up the small box and note that had been left on it. He then turned to show it to Bobby, holding up the little sign that had been leaning against it. Opening the lid, he and Bobby gasped as a bright, golden glow filled up the room.

“What is that?” asked Bobby, then glanced down at the short note.

_For Bobby, keep it safe for us._

Keep WHAT safe? The box? he asked himself, aloud.

“Psyche’s box. It holds souls.” answered Cas.

“That’s neato, but where are Sam and Dean? Where are my boys?!” Bobby snapped, crumpling up the note in his hand and tossing it angrily to the floor.

“Right here.” Cas said, looking up at the old, worried man. The light from the box turning his light blue eyes a bright golden hue.

“Wha--?! Ah no, don’t tell me Sam’s soul is in there!”

Cas shook his head. “Not just Sam’s.”

“What?!”

Cas smiled ruefully then held the box out to Bobby.

“There are two souls in here.”

 

**_~THE END~_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are fuel. Let's keep this fic engine running! 
> 
> For updates and news on any of my fics, follow me on **[Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/JessieCristo73)**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Unrepentant by jessie_cristo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730123) by [millygal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal)




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